When Viktor is sick, he gets very quiet.

At first, Yuuri thinks it's something to do with him. Maybe Viktor doesn't trust Yuuri to take care of him? Maybe Yuuri is horrible at taking care of people when they're sick and no one's told him? Maybe Viktor hates Yuuri and wishes he'd never invited him to live in Russia with him? The possibilities are endless.

And then they go to the rink, and the second Yakov sees Viktor skating in bleary circles, muffling coughs against his elbow, he sighs and bellows, "Katsuki!"

Yuuri, certain he's done something horribly wrong, skates over to where Yakov is standing. "Yes, Coach Yakov?"

Yakov sighs again, his eyes still on Viktor. "Did he tell you he was alright to skate?"

"He insisted," Yuuri replies, his voice a little plaintive and a little shaky. "I tried to talk him out of it, but he insisted."

"Vitya does that. He will not even listen to me, his own coach." Considering what he's seen of Viktor and Yakov's relationship, Yuuri isn't particularly surprised. "When he is sick, he does not like anyone to know. He-" Yakov scowls, the particular scowl Yuuri has noticed always comes when Yakov's English fails him. Of everyone at the Russian rink, Yuuri's English is the best, having spent five years in America. The other skaters are almost flawless, but Yakov isn't quite as good. "He suffers in silence, yes?"

"Oh." Yuuri looks over at Viktor, who is going through a step sequence at half speed and clearly struggling to manage it. "So what should I do?"

Yakov shrugs. "It has been a long time since that boy has let me take care of him," he grumbles. Yuuri knows that's not quite true, but perhaps it is when it comes to illness. "But he might let you. Try not to let him burn himself out, yes? He will skate until he collapses, and he will not tell you anything is wrong."

Viktor is now coughing harshly into the crook of his elbow, the sort of coughing that Yuuri knows makes your throat burn and your chest ache. "I'll do my best," he promises Yakov, then he skates over to Viktor and places a gentle hand on the small of his back.

"Yuuri," Viktor says, and his voice is horribly scratchy and raw. "What did Yakov-" Another cough rips through him and he catches it in his elbow. "What did Yakov want?"

Yuuri looks at Viktor, pale except where he's flushed from the coughing, a light sheen of sweat over his face. "You need to go home," he says softly. "Vitya, you can't do this to yourself."

Viktor goes still for an instant, then he skates away from Yuuri, shaking his head. "I'm alright," he insists, even though he sounds like he's swallowed a razor.

"You're not," Yuuri says gently. "Come on, Vitya, let's go home. You can go back to bed."

"I'm-" Viktor's next coughing fit leaves him doubled over, looking like he's about to collapse onto the ice. Yuuri skates over to him as he pants raggedly.

"Vitenka," he whispers, a hand on Viktor's back. "Let's go home."

Viktor looks miserable, but he nods and skates to the edge of the rink.

"We're going to take the day off," Yuuri tells Yakov, who nods.

"Do your best to make sure he takes care of himself."

Yuuri will try.

Viktor stubbornly insists on taking a shower after they get home, even though he's barely able to stay upright. Yuuri sits outside the bathroom door, listening intently for a crash. Everything seems to be alright until the water turns off, and then there's nothing but silence.

"Yuuri?" Viktor finally calls, his voice small and trembling, and Yuuri tears into the bathroom immediately.

Viktor is sitting in the bathtub, his knees drawn up to his chest and his body wracked by shivers. "I can't stand up," he admits miserably. "I'm going to be sick if I stand up."

"Okay," Yuuri says gently. He grabs the trash can and drags it over to the side of the tub. "You can just sit there, Vitya. Are you cold?"

Viktor shakes his head. "'M sorry," he mumbles.

Yuuri's heart breaks. "Oh, Vitya, you don't have to be sorry. I want to take care of you."

Viktor shakes his head again, then makes a soft gagging noise that has Yuuri reaching for the trash can. He doesn't throw up, though, just leans his head against the tiles of the shower wall. "I hate being sick."

"Everyone does," Yuuri replies. "But you'll be okay soon. I'll take care of you."

"You don't have to," Viktor counters. "You can go back to practice. I'll be alright."

"I'm not going to leave you here when you're not feeling well!" Yuuri protests.

Viktor frowns. "You have Four Continents in a month and a half-"

"My coach is in no shape to coach me," Yuuri says, aiming for levity.

It doesn't work. Viktor wraps his arms tighter around his legs and presses his forehead to his knees. "I'm a horrible coach," he mumbles, his words muffled enough that it takes Yuuri a moment to figure out what they are.

"You are not," he retorts. "Vitya, everyone gets sick-"

"Most coaches don't drag their students down when they get sick."

"Vitya." Yuuri puts a gentle hand on the back of Viktor's neck. "I'm not here as your student right now, okay? I'm here as your fiancé, and I love you, and I'm not leaving."

Viktor lifts his head to look at Yuuri. At first, Yuuri thinks his eyes are glassy from fever, but then a tear slides down his cheek and Yuuri realizes he's not feverish, he's crying. "Vitya? Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"Don't ever leave me," Viktor whispers brokenly. "I love you so much, Yuuri, don't leave me-"

"Never, Vitya, never," Yuuri assures him quickly. "I will never leave you, I promise."

"I wanna go to bed," Viktor mumbles, wiping at his eyes. He sounds very young. "Can we go to bed, Yuuri?"

"Anything you want," Yuuri assures him, leaning forward and pressing his forehead against Viktor's. He should probably be more careful about germs, but Viktor looks so small and miserable that he can't help it. "Do you think you can stand up now?"

Viktor nods, pushing himself slowly upright with the help of both Yuuri and the shower wall. He stumbles to the bed and collapses on it immediately.

"Is there anything you want?" Yuuri asks, pulling the blanket out from under Viktor and settling it over him. "Food or water or-"

"I want you," Viktor says simply, his voice small and raw with honesty.

Yuuri lies down next to Viktor and gathers him in his arms. "You have me," he promises. "I'm not going anywhere."

Viktor's sleep seems peaceful enough, although he coughs feebly a few times. Yuuri strokes his hair and rubs his back and Viktor clings to him like a touch-starved octopus. He's hot, too hot, but he shivers whenever Yuuri tries to take the blanket off. In the end, Yuuri manages to maneuver the blanket so it's covering Viktor but not him, considering the feverish heat coming from Viktor is enough to keep Yuuri warm by itself. Viktor prefers Yuuri to the blanket, so his arms are wrapped around Yuuri's torso instead of tucked under the sheets.

Yuuri really needs to make sure he takes care of himself, because considering the lack of personal space he and Viktor have between themselves, he has a huge risk of catching whatever Viktor has.

With that thought in mind, Yuuri manages to disentangle Viktor's limbs from around him and go check the medicine cabinet for cold medicine. There's very little there. Yuuri wonders what Viktor normally does when he's sick. Yakov says he "suffers in silence," but he must do something. But unless there's another spot where Viktor keeps his cold medicine, there's only the dregs of one bottle and a half-empty bag of cough drops. Yuuri eyes the liquid medicine, then grabs a cough drop and closes the cabinet door. He'll go get something later-

"Yuuri?" he hears from the other room, small and broken, and Yuuri is in the bedroom in seconds flat.

Viktor is sitting in the bed, his hair mussed and his eyes bleary, and looking around with a heartbreaking expression his face. Yuuri rushes forward. "I'm here, Vitya, I'm here, are you okay?"

"I woke up and-" Viktor swallows hard, then winces. "I was worried."

"I was just looking to see if you had any medicine," Yuuri replies. "There's not much. Do you want a cough drop? Or I can go to the pharmacy if you tell me what to get."

Viktor still looks distinctly miserable, but at least he doesn't have that devastated expression on his face anymore. "A cough drop sounds good," he says, his voice oddly subdued. As if his words are a cue, a coughing fit rips through him, leaving Viktor doubled over on the bed as Yuuri flutters around him helplessly.

"Here's a cough drop," Yuuri says, pressing it into Viktor's hand. "Do you want water or food first?"

Viktor shakes his head. "I'm still a little nauseous," he admits. "If I eat I think I'm just going to throw it back up."

"Oh, Vitya." Yuuri runs a hand through Viktor's hair and Viktor slumps against him bonelessly. "Do you want to go back to sleep?"

"Will you stay?" Viktor asks in a tiny voice.

Yuuri's heart breaks. "I will, I promise. I just went to see if you had any cold medicine, Vitya, I promise, I wasn't leaving you."

Viktor makes a little noise that sounds miserable. "I don't wanna sleep but I don't think I can stay awake."

"Sleep, Vitya," Yuuri says, kissing the top of Viktor's head. "I'll be right here, I promise."

Viktor hands Yuuri the unopened cough drop, which Yuuri puts on the bedside table. "I don't want you to get sick too," he protests weakly. "You should probably go."

"I promised I'd stay with you," Yuuri replies, running his hand through Viktor's hair again. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Love you," Viktor mumbles as Yuuri eases himself under the covers. He remains sitting up, but Viktor curls up in his lap, nestling as close to him as he can get.

"Love you too," Yuuri whispers, putting one hand on Viktor's shoulder.

"Play with my hair?" Viktor asks, looking up at Yuuri with an utterly pathetic look on his flushed face.

Yuuri complies immediately. "Go to sleep, Vitya," he says, but Viktor's eyes are already closed, and Yuuri's pretty sure he's already asleep.

Yuuri didn't plan to fall asleep, but he must doze off at some point, because the next thing he knows, he's abruptly woken up as something shoves him off the bed.

"Oof," he grunts as he hits the ground. "Vitya-"

But Viktor's already in the bathroom, judging by the horrible retching noises Yuuri hears. He must have accidentally pushed Yuuri off the bed in a mad scramble to get to there. As unpleasant as getting pushed off the bed was, Yuuri prefers it to being thrown up on, so he's glad Viktor moved as quickly as he did.

Viktor is kneeling miserably in front of the toilet when Yuuri pokes his head into the bathroom, so he goes to the kitchen to get a glass of water. By the time he returns, the worst of it seems to be over. Viktor is panting harshly, but he no longer seems to be gagging or throwing up.

"Here's some water," Yuuri offers softly. "I thought you might want it."

Viktor looks up at him, blinking. "I pushed you off the bed," he says. "Didn't I?"

"You didn't mean to," Yuuri replies. He sets the glass of water down and dampens a facecloth. "Come here."

"'M sorry," Viktor mumbles, slumping against Yuuri's side and letting him gently wipe his face. "Didn't mean to push you."

"I know, Vitya. It's okay."

"You can go, if you want. I'm okay."

"You are not!" Yuuri protests. "Vitya, I'm not going anywhere."

"You don't have to stay," Viktor assures him, as if he's not leaning against Yuuri like he's incapable of sitting upright by himself. "I'll be fine on my own."

"I'm not going anywhere," Yuuri replies. "Vitya, earlier you didn't want me to leave you and now you're telling me to go?"

Viktor looks down, still leaning on Yuuri. "Don't want to hold you back," he mumbles.

"I think it's more than that," Yuuri urges softly. Viktor says nothing. "Yakov says you suffer in silence," Yuuri adds after a moment. "He says you don't like people to know you're sick."

Viktor shifts against Yuuri slightly. He still won't look up.

"You don't have to suffer in silence anymore," Yuuri tells him quietly. "You know that, right, Vitya? You don't have to worry about that. You can be vulnerable with me."

Viktor's inhale is distinctly shaky. "Can't."

"Yes, you can," Yuuri replies firmly. "You can be vulnerable with me, Vitya. You can be sick or upset or weak or anything, and I will love you, no matter what. I want you to be yourself. That's who I fell in love with. You." Yuuri tucks a finger under Viktor's chin and makes him look up. Brown eyes meet blue. "No matter what, I love you, Vitenka. Forever and always."

Tears well up in Viktor's eyes. "Yuuri," he whispers brokenly, and then he throws his arms around Yuuri and sobs.

"I've got you," Yuuri whispers, running Viktor's back gently. "Don't worry, Vitya, I've got you."

Viktor returns to the rink a week later, fully recovered. Yuuri, who miraculously manages to avoid getting Viktor's illness, returns earlier, working with Yakov. "I'm taking care of him," he tells Yakov, who nods and favors Yuuri with something that could almost be a smile.

When Viktor finally steps on the ice again, it's like a homecoming. He skates in cheerful circles, completely ignoring Yakov's shouts that he not overdo it, you idiot! Yuuri watches him with a fond smile he doesn't realize is on his face until Yuri yells at him to stop being disgusting and get on the damn ice.

Viktor is supposed to be working on his own routine with Yakov, and Yuuri is supposed to be practicing his quad flip, but his eyes keep meeting Viktor's. There's still the slightest hint of a flush on Viktor's cheekbones, and the tip of his nose is a bit too pink. When he finally finishes his practice, he skates over to the edge of the rink, tucked away so that no one can see him if they're not specifically looking. He takes a long sip from his water bottle, face red and sweaty. He looks human.

He looks vulnerable.

Yuuri meets his eye and smiles softly. Viktor smiles back and nods.

I love you, no matter what.

I know.